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ORIGINAL LINGERING SPIRITS
There’s a picture of three ghosts beside my bed
A mother, a daughter and a dad
If I stare for long
I feel a glimpse of recognition
It’s there scratching inside my skull
As if it were an egg to break
As if I just sat here screaming
Maybe it would get through
Thoughts of me, thought of you
It’s all the same
Yet I feel so separate
Missing you, a piece of me
An organ removed, but not replaced
Transplantation incomplete